Drunk expansion
by PerfumedRose
Summary: An expansion of chapter 59, of the 365'another year of mystrade' not necessary to have read it as it is included in this one.
1. Chapter 1

**Drunk – expansion**

 **Chapter 1**

Greg eyed the glass in front of him filled with the amber liquid, he kind of lost track of how many he had tonight. It was not the best decision considering he should technically be on pain killers. He eyed the brace around his wrist, it wasn't a throbbing pain, but the alcohol did help with the numbness. The light on his phone haven't stopped blinking with incoming texts and calls, either John or Mycroft. He didn't care. John would fuss and expect him to talk about it and Mycroft would try to apologise, or have another go at him. It wasn't supposed to happen; he and Mycroft had a fight that escalated outside of his office. It was about a case that Mycroft took out of his hands without telling him about it before hand. Greg got furious. Taking another sip Greg thought back to the fight.

"Dammit Mycroft, you could've at least gave me a heads up." Greg yelled as Mycroft picked up his umbrella and made to the door to his office.

"No, I don't. This is my job, you knew that beforehand."

"I did, I'm not asking for you to change that, I'm asking for a little respect and tell me before you just take it out of my hands and make me look like an idiot in front of my team." Greg followed Mycroft as he walked to the hallway and the elevator. Anthea was already waiting for him. Two of his security people were standing on either side.

"Gregory why would I care what your team thinks, besides I don't have to tell you anything now please leave, we can discuss this later in more private settings."

Mycroft retorted and pushed the button for the elevator to open. Anthea ignored him. Greg stood as if struck; Mycroft is dismissing him again, this time in front of his people. The second time today. The door opened and Mycroft and Anthea stepped inside. Mycroft turned around to look at Greg. Something snapped in Greg and he tried to grab Mycroft's hand.

"No. I want to talk about it now." Before Mycroft could do anything this security man on Greg's right reached out, grabbed his wrist and twisted behind Greg's back in one move. Greg cried out and watched Mycroft attempting to move closer but the doors slid close.

"Let me go!" Greg asked but the man twisted his arm more and led him outside. He didn't let go, no matter how much Greg asked. The man finally let go and half pushed him out the door before he slammed it close in Greg's face Greg brought his arm to his chest, his wrist aching. His phone rang but he struggled to get it out of his inside pocket as his hand was incapable of moving, and his left hand couldn't reach it. He shrugged off his jacket and after an effort got his phone out. It was a private number. Before he could do anything a text came in.

 _"Mr. Holmes wants to know if everything is okay. Anthea."_

Greg didn't bother to reply as he made his way to the street and called a taxi. He needed to go to the hospital. His arm was bruised and turning blue, he needed an x-ray.

Two hours later he was sent home, booked off for a week with a fractured wrist. He knew he didn't need to inform Mycroft as Mycroft would now something had happened; he was there and couldn't be bothered to stop the elevator to see why his boyfriend cried out.

So instead of resting he decided on drinking his sorrow away. .which is why he sat on the sofa his phone ringing every few moments and the notification light unrelenting in the blinking.

Finishing his glass he tried to pour another but couldn't; he was too drunk and too unfocused with his left hand to pour so instead he just lay down on the sofa and passed out.

Greg was still asleep when his front door opened and the tired and exhausted figure of Mycroft came in. Putting his umbrella and briefcase down he made his way to the bedroom, unable to find Greg he walked towards the living room and switched on a lamp. His heart ached as he saw Greg, passed out on his back his left arm dangling towards the ground and his right arm, resting on his chest. Mycroft frowned seeing his right arm and the bottle of pills on the table next to the bottle of alcohol.

"Gregory!" He called out but there were no response, Greg just shifted and continued sleeping. Mycroft rushed over and picked up the bottle, it was still sealed. Slowly he grouch down and touched the brace around Greg's wrist

"Oh, what have I done?" Mycroft whispered as he sagged down onto the floor his head in his hands. How the hell is he supposed to fix this?

 **Continuing**

Mycroft was uncertain on how long he sat there, his legs had gone numb, not to mention his arse. Greg was still sound asleep and from the looks of it, will be out of it for another few hours. With effort Mycroft stood up and shook his legs for the feeling to come back. After that he removed Greg's shoes and with a struggle his trousers. Greg hardly moved. Putting the shoes away he took one of the blankets and covered Greg.

As he stood up his eyes fell on the bottle and making a decision he took it to the kitchen, filled a glass of water and took it back to the living room. He placed the glass on the table next to the pills.

Removing his jacket he hangs it over the armchair closest to him.

He then made his way to sit down on the end of the sofa with Greg's feet on his lap. Kicking off his shoes he twisted himself that he was sitting sideways on the sofa facing Greg he leaned against the back, his eyes on Greg, more importantly the cast on his wrist. That was essentially his fault. His security has always been on high alert for him and Anthea but that was a bit extreme.

He was uncertain for how long he sat there looking at Greg, but eventually he fell asleep.

When Greg stirred the next morning his head was spinning and his wrist was pounding. Clenching his eyes shut he tried to take deep steady breaths when he realised something, he was comfortable and warm. Also from the feel of it, not wearing his trousers or shoes, but he knows he didn't take them off. Nor did he get the blanket that was around him. And wait, his feet was elevated. Slowly he opened his eyes and looked around him, the bottle was gone but a glass of water was standing there and right now those pills looked very invitingly at him. Forgetting about for a moment he looked down his body to saw the blanket but more importantly the man at the end of the sofa, sleeping in an awkward position, which will definitely give him a few stiff muscles. His hair was all messed up on the side he was sleeping with his hands was around Greg's feet, holding it close. The fact that he was still wearing his suit minus the jacket meant there will be a few unwanted wrinkles, Mycroft have always been set on his suit and wrinkles.

Making the blanket more comfortable around him his eyes fell on the cast and the throbbing pain. He really should take some medications but the way he was laying didn't allow him to reach so far and if he moves he'll wake up Mycroft. Not that he didn't care about waking him up; he just wasn't in the mood to have him awake just yet.

Greg stared at Mycroft remembering the fight and the reason for his current predicament. He was still so angry but more than that he was hurt. He was so hurt by Mycroft's actions that he really didn't want to think about or look at Mycroft at the moment. This isn't some small fight that they can laugh about after they sort it out or make up with really good sex.

This is serious. Mycroft dismissed him, twice, made him feel alone and worthless to be honest. Not once has his ex-wife ever done something like that to him.

Since last night he really wondered if wasn't maybe a masochist or something because there has to be a reason why he allows himself to be hurt like this. Is his self-esteem and worth so low that that he feels it necessary to be hurt like this?

He wishes he had an explanation for what to do, more importantly for how he should handle Mycroft. Yes, he is here making sure Greg is okay and comfortable on the couch, yes he removed his shoes and trousers and put some water there, which he really want at the moment. Maybe he can twist in such a way that he can reach the glass? Here goes. Using the strength in his stomach he lifted his chest while reaching out to the table with his left hand, just a little more, a little...

Mycroft jumped awake when he heard a loud thud, followed by an "Aarggh!" Greg was laying on his side on the floor, the blanket scrunched up around him, his right arm on the table with the glass of water on its side, a small puddle on the table, dripping on the floor right where Greg's head was.

He tried to push him up and shook his hair to keep the water droplets from rolling into his eyes. As he tried to lift himself he must've pushed down on his right hand as he growled in pain and pulled his arm in.

"Gregory, are you okay?" Mycroft tried. Greg ignored him as he struggled to get into a sit-up position.

Taking a breath he tried to push himself up again but it was difficult. Mycroft held out his hand to help but Greg ignored him again.

Taking a breath Mycroft stood up and held out his hands for Greg to take.

"Let me help you." He tried but Greg threw him a look.

"So now you care?" Greg asked as he stood up by himself. Picking up the glass and pills he made his way to the kitchen. Mycroft sighed and followed him. Greg tried to fill the glass with fresh water but he couldn't open the tab with his wrist. Mycroft tried to help him by opening the tab, Greg dropped the glass and walked away with a "fuck it" under his breath. Mycroft closed his eyes and filled the glass, putting it on the counter he removed two pills from the container. He watch as Greg came back with a towel in his left hand and went to the living room, instead of wiping the table he just threw the towel over the table as if a table cloth, it immediately soaked up the water.

Mycroft stood in the doorway watching as Greg let the water soaked up before picking the towel up again, using the dry sections he wipe the table dry then turned around and walked past Mycroft to put it in the bathroom. When he came back in he stood in the middle of the kitchen eyeing the glass.

"You need to take the meds and have something to eat as well. If you'd like I can order..."

"No thank you." Greg replied and picked up the pills before swallowing it down.

"Gregory..."

"What?" Greg asked as he put the glass down. He turned to Mycroft who saw the anger and resentment, but most of all the pain and disappointment.

"I..." he tried but stopped. He has no idea how to start.

"Are you here to take another case, because then I'm sorry to inform you I'm booked off for a week so no case, and if you're here to dismiss me again, you're also shit out of luck."

"I came because I was worried about you."

Mycroft knew that was the wrong thing to say. Greg stared at him.

"Excuse me? You were worried about me? You didn't seem to worry when you took a case out of my hands; you didn't seem to worry when you dismissed me the second time and you sure as hell didn't seem to worry when your security assaulted me."

"He didn't assault you." Mycroft retorted

"What do you fucking call this?" Greg yelled as he lifted his hand.

"It's fractured in case you're wondering. I know compared to you secret agent types, it's probably another day at the office, but in my experience on the force, it is assault. Oh by the way, thank you so much for stopping him, I can't tell you enough how much I appreciate and value it, makes me feel so wanted and loved by my partner." Greg added sarcastically. Mycroft stood still, his eyes on the cast around Greg's wrist. The white and blue air cast a high contrast to his skin.

"He was following orders."

"Orders? From whom, you? So what instead of getting your hands dirty and beating your boyfriend you get someone else to do it?"

"You weren't supposed to get hurt!"

"Oh gee thanks. Next time sent a memo, 'hey Gregory, don't get upset, I'm about to dismiss you and treat you like crap, so smile otherwise the security will break your wrist again. Love Mycroft.' Greg was beyond pissed and sarcastic. Mycroft looked down at his shoes, he was usually so good with people and right now every skill he has is failing him. It was quiet for a while. Finally Mycroft spoke.

"What would you like me to say that will not be met with Sarcasm?" Greg smiled but it wasn't kind.

"Instead of defending your security, how about "I'm sorry." Mycroft opened his mouth to speak, but not a sound came out, Greg was right, it should've been the first thing he said. To apologise. Isn't that why he came here last night? To see if Greg was okay? To apologise? Instead he was making things just harder.

His phone beeped but he ignored it. It would probably be about last night's emergency. He left rather quickly, so he had no idea what the after effects were.

Greg shook his head and switched the kettle on; he needed something stronger than water. Mycroft's phone beeped again. Mycroft ignored it so Greg did too.

"What was so important last night?" He decided to ask. He didn't know why he was asking, it is not as though Mycroft would answer him.

"There was an international emergency at Heathrow. Interpol and the CIA were involved. I was urgently needed. It was relevant to your case." Mycroft replied in a straight monotone voice. Greg turned around to look at Mycroft. He was surprised Mycroft actually answered.

"Is it sorted?"

"Yes."

"Then why the beeps."

"I asked to be informed of the outcome and necessary effects that might be relevant later on."

Greg just nodded and continued making coffee, with his hand immobile it was a difficult task, but Mycroft didn't try to help him again. Instead he just took the milk out of the fridge, unscrews the lid and placed it in arm's reach. Greg didn't acknowledge him. His phone beeped again but Mycroft made no attempt to check it. Greg finished making the coffee and handed a mug over to Mycroft.

"Thank you." Greg nodded and looked at Mycroft as he drank the coffee.

"You know what I don't get? What I'm really don't understand?" Mycroft looked back at Gregory expectantly, staying quiet.

"Is how easy and natural it comes to you."

"What?" Mycroft asked confused for the first time. When Greg replied he really wished he didn't ask. Greg was so casual about it that, that in itself was more upsetting.

"To dismiss people, to really dismiss them as if they were mist in front of the sun, poof and they're gone." The coffee solidified in Mycroft's mouth and he nearly choked on it. His stomach dropped into his shoes. He looked away before turning back again; Greg was standing casually against the counter, as if his words didn't just break Mycroft a little.

"Gregory..." he tried.

"And I guess the question is, whether I am okay with you walking over me when it suits you."


	2. Chapter 2

Drunk – expansion

Chapter 2

The sky was so bright it was hurting Greg's eyes. Then again there was a few benches open next to a tree or some shade, but he didn't want it. He wanted the sun on his skin, he wants the rays to touch his skin and most likely lighten the grey even further.

He is still unused to the cast, but it is going better than yesterday.

Yesterday when he woke up on the sofa, yesterday when he and Mycroft had a fight. The fight hasn't left his mind. He knew and could see the words was hurting Mycroft, but it had to be said.

He had to get it off his chest; otherwise it would just fester inside and become something bigger until it would cause damage that cannot be repaired. Mycroft was trying to think of what to say when his phone rang. With all the message alerts he was bound to get the call so he answered and had to go. Greg didn't give him a hard time about that.

He could feel a that he was starting to sweat and moved to the shade, he didn't mind the sweat but it would be hell on his wrist and the itching would increase. He left his sunglasses on as he sat back and stared out the river in front of him. London is truly a magnificent city, not to mention the parliament building, which happens to be in front of him. He sighed as he watched the building and the people. He wonders if Mycroft was in there or at another office?

He wondered if Mycroft had eaten since he left yesterday, he didn't even finish his coffee, granted Mycroft prefers tea, but he had a hard enough time making the coffee as it is.

Since Mycroft left he wondered what was such an emergency at the airport, that Mycroft had to leave immediately and how did it connected to his case?

He looked down next to him before he remembered he forgot to take the newspaper when he moved seats.

There was nothing in there, but then again when Mycroft is involved there never is anything in the paper.

He meant what he said yesterday. He loves Mycroft but he needed to know if he loves him enough to take the occasional dismissal from Mycroft. He understands that Mycroft is an extremely important man, but that doesn't mean he should be willing to be treated like crap.

The other question is can he imagine his life without Mycroft? No more intimate meetings and secret get together. No more surprises that Mycroft would surprise him with. He wouldn't be allowed to spend time with Mycroft like he used to, be one of the few privileged men or persons who get to see a side of Mycroft he keeps hidden from the world. A side he only shares with those who he trusts. And he trust Greg, he knows that, to an extent yes, but he was one of the first that Mycroft trusted near his brother and that says a lot. More than enough actually.

It took Greg years to take away enough layers of the enigma called Mycroft to ask him out. To make the occasional meetings in to something more. He had to exhibit a huge amount of patience before Mycroft trusted him enough to see his place, his bedroom, to see the man behind the suits... is he ready to throw away years of hard work for one incident?

It was getting late in the afternoon and he was getting hungry, the way he sees it, he had two options, either go buy something to eat and called Mycroft, or call Mycroft telling him to bring him lunch and hopefully they can have a talk. Yesterday's talk ended a bit abruptly with Mycroft leaving and Greg attitude.

Well he deserved to be a bit pissed at his partner. Taking a deep breath he took out his phone.

He has trouble with texting luckily WhatsApp does allow voice notes.

Opening to Mycroft's name he smiled at the profile pic. An umbrella, god Mycroft is such a ponch sometimes.

He brought the phone to his mouth.

"Don't know if you will get this in time, but if you are in parliament and look out a window you'll see a lonesome detective who is quite hungry, if you want and not in a meeting, you're more than welcome to share lunch, although you need to provide the lunch. Let me know so I don't sit here the whole day waiting for food that's not going to come. Tell you what, I'll wait till two then I'm robbing a food store."

Mycroft was staring out the window, deep in thought. He cancelled all his meetings for the day; he really didn't want to see anyone. Yesterday after he left Greg's place he was busy until late in the night, living on biscuits and tea that Anthea kept bringing him. He was tired and so lost to be truthful. Greg's words and face was haunting him. His hands just starts to shake all over again as he remembered when Greg said about him being okay with Mycroft walking over him when it suits him.

The words had slammed into Mycroft's body with the same force as water when you jumped from the highest podium. His hands shook and the coffee threatened to spill over so he hastily put it down. He remembered how his entire mind shut down when he realised the meaning, he could lose Greg. Really lose him forever if Greg decides it's not worth it, the only true and meaningful relationship he ever had will be truly gone.

They were right, those that say "you never know what you have until it's gone, but it's untrue, you know what you have, it's just you never thought you'd lose it" but he might. He can still lose it and he has no idea how to fix this.

Yes he should say sorry but will it be enough? Can one word really make the difference?

Turning away from the window he noticed the fresh pot of tea and instead of biscuits, Anthea decided on small pastry pies and that miniature quiche. He didn't want it. He was not hungry, how can he eat when his stomach is so unreliable, one moment he feels like throwing up, the next it was a piece of rock, the next a wobbly stress ball...

His phone beeped loudly in the room and he frowned. He asked not to be disturbed. Who would dare go against his wishes? Gregory would, he would always challenge Mycroft. Hoping it might be him he picked up the phone from the table.

Opening his phone he saw he had a voice note.

For a brief moment he felt guilty as he knows Greg is probably struggling with his writing. So texting was going to be difficult.

He pressed the little play button and Greg's voice filled the air.

He wants lunch!

Mycroft could jump high in the air if he was so able, he is able but then again, he is the British Government. He can't go tap dancing in his office because his boyfriend wants to have lunch.

He can do it. He walked back to the window and look out, he can't see anything but knowing Greg is opposite the river is a comfort. He quickly tapped into the CCTV cameras and there he was, sitting very relaxed on the bench. Smiling and with a new sense of hope he took his jacket, phone and umbrella and made his way out. He will have lunch today.

Putting the phone back down he leaned back his arms outstretched on the back, enjoying the day. In the distance he could see some clouds and wondered if there rain on the forecast, he should ask Mycroft. He'd know. Clever man that, we'll with certain things that is...it was another fifteen minutes or so when he realised he did not receive an answer back, and a glance at his watch told him he has about another half an hour before he is leaving. His arse is going to be sore...

It took him another five minutes to see the figure walking across the bridge; then again between the tourists and the rest a 6 foot tall man in a three piece suit with his umbrella opened and a bag in the other hand were going to stand out. Greg couldn't keep a straight face and laughed softly. It's moments like this that makes him so thankful to know that man, to call him his. He watched as Mycroft made his way over to him, the bag swinging lightly with each step. Mycroft has a way to walk as if he is gliding over the surface. Greg loves it, it always feel like he stomps to wherever he goes while Mycroft is gliding.

"Gregory." Mycroft greeted while handing Greg the package as he close his umbrella and then in a moment of contemplation removed his jacket as well. Greg stared in wonder

"I don't think I've ever seen you remove your jacket in public." Mycroft gave him a slight smile.

"It's a warm day, I'm hot."

"I'm not complaining, it's just nice to see."

Greg opened the bag and smiled. Mycroft bought them subs at the subway. Mycroft has never eaten there until Greg introduced him and it became a guilty pleasure of some sorts for Mycroft to indulge every now and then.

There were also two bottles of water and two bottles of fruit juice.

"Thanks." Greg said as he unpacked the food next to him. Mycroft sat down on the opposite side.

"You know I love these."

"Yeah." Greg replied and his eyes widen as he opened the container, his sub was cut into smaller pieces.

He looked at Mycroft who swallowed.

"I thought it would help, with your hand and wrist, I...I presumed too much."

"It's fine. Actually that would help me a lot. Thank you." Mycroft nodded and slowly started eating. It was quiet between them while they ate. Mycroft didn't realise how hungry he actually was as he started eating. The nauseous feeling was completely gone now that he sat next to Greg. There were still some major unresolved issues but the fact that they could eat in peace was nice.

Greg was watching Mycroft as he ate, a little faster than normal which meant he was right in his assessment, Mycroft hasn't eaten since yesterday, or they day before that. No doubt Anthea provided him with some biscuits and snacks but this sub is the first decent meal he has had.

"So are all the problems resolved?" Greg asked, Mycroft head spun around to him.

"Between us?" He asked with genuine confusion.

"No, with your emergency yesterday?"

"Oh." Mycroft visibly deflated.

"Yes. Fine." He answered off handily taking another bit of his food. Greg sighed.

"My, you do know that this between us isn't going to be resolved overnight and a lunch?"

Mycroft took a deep breath and looked at Greg.

"I know."

Mycroft finished first and placed his empty container back in the bag. Taking the bottle of juice he opened it slightly close it before putting it close to Greg and took the other bottle for him. Greg saw it and his heart melted, Mycroft can be so considered when he puts his mind to it, when it is his focus, if not it's as if he never acquainted himself with the concept of consideration.

"Thanks." He softly said and took the bottle, balancing his food on his lap. Mycroft continued to stare in front of him as he started talking.

"You know, I cancelled my whole day today because the thought of being around people was irritating me, I couldn't stop, still can't stop thinking about you, and what happened. And every part of me wants to explain, but it all seems so futile when the fact remains you still got hurt."

Greg listened and didn't know how to respond, Mycroft was trying to understand, yet his logical mind is contradicting his emotions. A strange thing for him surely.

"First of all you are around people."

"I'm not around people, I'm with you."

"I am a person."

"Yes but you're you, and you are you which is different." Mycroft retorted, leaving no room for argument. Greg frowned and then smiled, okay; he definitely needs to add that to his list of things he didn't understand.

"Okay, you do know sometimes explaining things can really make a difference? Yes I got hurt, but it would really help your case if I understand things better."

"Really?" Mycroft asked with hopeful eyes and Greg had to remind him not to get emotional about it, he is angry and hurt and he needs to work that out before he can just get weak in the knees with those eyes.

"Yeah."

Mycroft thought for a moment before he jumped up.

He turned to Greg.

"Can I come by tonight? I'll bring dinner." Greg let the confusion show, his mouth hanging open. Weren't they about to talk this out? Wasn't Mycroft about to explain?

"Huh?"

"Tonight, can I stop by?"

"Yeah, course you can. But aren't you about to explain..."

Mycroft leaned closer his hands resting on Greg's shoulders.

"Please. I will, I need to do something right now, please give me a chance tonight."

Greg just nodded as he stared into Mycroft's eyes; it was focused and bright with purpose. Mycroft smiled and gave him a quick kiss before he grabbed his umbrella and jacket and walked back, way faster than he came. Greg sat there with mixed emotions, he felt like he was just part of a twilight zone mix up.

"Oh God, and he calls me the dramatic one." Greg nearly dropped his food as he turned to the voice. Seeing who it was he sighed deeply and took a shallow of the juice.

Sherlock was standing behind him, collar up and jacket softly waving in the wind.

Watching as his brother disappeared into the crowd he sat down next to Greg. Opening the bag he took the spare bottle of water. He turned to Greg all smiling.

"So, what did my idiot brother do now?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Drunk – expansion**

 **Chapter 3**

Greg watched as Sherlock drank some of the water, he didn't say anything straight away. Honestly he didn't know what to say. How do you tell someone like Sherlock that Mycroft essentially got him hurt?

Sherlock put the cap back on and dropped the bottle on the bag. He sat back and waited. Greg collected all the empty containers and juice bottle and put it into the bag before he stood up and throw it into waste basket. He turned around and he caught Sherlock staring at his cast.

Greg ignored it and sat back down.

"Sherlock, what are you doing here?"

"My brother never eats subs, how did you do it?" Greg chuckled loudly.

"That's what you want to know?"

Sherlock shrugged.

"Among other things. I can tell you one thing though, I can't remember the last time I saw him so excited to go to his office, nor so delighted to meet someone for lunch." Here Greg laughed at the face Sherlock pulled. As it the thought was genuinely causing him confusing - which it probably did.

Before Greg could say something Sherlock grabbed his arm, holding his wrist close. "Mycroft never gets physical." Greg was shocked how he can think Mycroft would do something like that. How can he suspect that?

"He didn't. Sherlock he didn't hit me, he wil never how can you think that of him?" Greg asked already half angry.

Sherlock smiled and dropped his hand.

"I know, just wanted to see your reaction. He didn't do it, yet you hold him responsible?"

"Yes. He is a big instigator in this. He shouldn't have treated me like crap and dismissed me as if I'm some butler! He should've stopped his security from manhandling me in front of him, and he should've called to find out if I'm okay, and he should've at least tried to apologize!" Greg rambled off. Sherlock didn't say anything as he spoke. He waited a moment as if he tried to get his words straight, to think what he should say; when he did speak it was soft.

"When Mycroft gets in his head, focused on something, nothing else matters. I'm the same." Greg sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

"I'm not 'nothing' Sherlock. I'm his partner, supposed to be, will you let anyone do this to John while you are focused on a case?"

"Of course not." Sherlock widen his eyes as he realized what Greg meant. He sat back in the chair. They sat in silence, just observing the people around them, Greg tried to figure exactly why Sherlock was here and what he was planning, on the other hand, he didn't. Sherlock didn't say anything, after about five minutes he turned to Greg before looking away again.

"You won't believe me but he played a big part in my life as children, until he left for university he was my best friend, my only friend..."

Greg was flabbergasted. He never knew that. Sherlock stared ahead as if lost in a memory

"He was the one who taught me the science of deduction; he would try to find ways to make it interesting for me to look at every detail, to take the shadows apart till I could see the whole story. He helped me to lay the foundations of my mind palace, to construct it, to build it. He used his own as a map of reference for me to use. To compare and expand. When I was done he changed his, claiming ' It's for oneself, and should stay for oneself, one's own refuge from the world.' He used to play with me pirates a lot and always had a thing for deserts... somehow...our ship always landed on a desolate island with buried treasure." Sherlock smiled at the memory, his eyes sparkling and Greg felt as though he is invading something private and intimate, but he can't leave, because it was meant for him. Sherlock continued.

"…I'm convinced his mind palace is a desolate island, a desert with an oasis somewhere hidden, and in the middle of the oasis is a treasure chest."

Greg listened with every bit of concentration, learning more about Mycroft - and Sherlock - in the process. Sherlock looked down to his lap.

"Do you know what is inside his treasure chest?"

"What?" Greg asked, his voice hardly above a whisper, he didn't want to break the atmosphere that somehow surrounded them.

"Nothing." Sherlock replied. Greg was confused.

"It's empty?" He asked.

"It is now." Sherlock replied, turning his face to look at Greg.

"Sherlock if you're having me on..."

"I'm not."

"Then why is it empty?"

"Because whatever was inside he gave away."

"Which was?" Sherlock rolled his eyes; people can be really dense sometimes.

"It was his heart. He buried his heart in the chest nearly all his life, pretending relationships didn't bother him, that he wasn't lonely, but deep down I knew, he just haven't found the right pirate to give the treasure too"

Greg was breathing shallow trying to make sense of what Sherlock was telling him, somehow he knew exactly what he was saying, on the other hand he was even more confused, because what Sherlock is telling him...

"Sherlock..." Sherlock stood up and turned to Greg.

"You make him happy and when he is happy..." He trailed off. Greg looked at his cast then back at Sherlock.

"How do I forgive this? How can I be sure it won't happen again?"

"You can't. You of all people should know that."

"How do I know that what you saying about Mycroft and his heart are true? That it is me?"

"Because I've seen him all his life on his own, then I saw him with you. And then I saw how he willingly surrendered the oasis's location to you, allowing you to find the treasure. You always said nothing that is worth keeping just happens. It takes work. Are you going to work on this, allow Mycroft to work on this or not?" Without waiting for an answer Sherlock turned around and walked away, disappearing in the crowd, leaving Greg with his thoughts and a very confused expression on his face.

Greg stared ahead of him, even more frustrated and confused than the morning, Sherlock somehow found out about his injury, knew Mycroft was involved and then tried to defend his brother, or at least stood up for him. Mycroft, who had some explaining to do, left in a hurry and he still hasn't apologized. What a day.

Picking up the half bottle of water and the full one he started walking to the train station. He saw a homeless man on the side and gave the full bottle with a five pound note the man, keeping the half one for himself.

His mind didn't let him forget the conversation as he went home. His mind replaying every pirate movie he ever watch, every Treasure Island or deserted island scene he ever saw and in the middle was Mycroft, holding an empty treasure chest, and when Greg looked down the heart was in his hands.

They've come such a long way, and they had some rough patches, obstacles that needed to be overcome, issues that needed to be dealt with... and they always managed. He is not sure how, but in the end they walked stronger together afterwards. Can this time be the same?

When he got home he had a few hours to kill before Mycroft would be here. He sighed. Two weeks of this? How the hell is he going to survive? Maybe he should think about a hobby? Gibbs on NCIS that he sometimes watches builds boats, he can't do carpentry to save his life, nor does he have a basement, but he's sure he can think of something. Oh well, taking his afternoon medication he went to the sofa with a book. Ten minutes later he was asleep.

Mycroft stood in front of the door, his hands shaking with anticipation; he has one chance to fix this... Switching the file to his other arm he knocked. No one opened. He knocked again, a bit harder when he heard movement.

Greg opened the door and Mycroft stared. It was obvious he was sleeping, his clothes wrinkled and the sofa made lines on the side of his face; his hair was all messed up too.

"Gregory." Greg stared at Mycroft still half asleep

"I had a dream about you now, you were a damsel in distress and I was a pirate who saved you..."

Mycroft widen his eyes.

"Um okay... can I come in?"

"Yeah sure, close the door behind you, I'll put the kettle on."

Closing the door Mycroft smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

Drunk expansion

Chapter 4

Greg yawned as he moved to the kitchen, his body on automatic as he started preparing tea. He wants coffee, but Mycroft likes tea, and he got only enough energy for one, and since he already punished Mycroft with coffee yesterday he might as well, play nice.

Mycroft followed him into the kitchen working alongside Greg by taking out the milk and making things easier for his hand. He glanced to the stove and microwave.

"Can I order some dinner?" Greg turned to him.

"Yes, I think that would great. What are you in the mood for?"

"What do you feel like?" Greg asked but Mycroft had the same idea and they ended up talking together. Greg laughed out loud and Mycroft chuckled softly as he watches Greg.

"You always loved that steak from that one place close to my office." Mycroft suggested. Greg's eyes sparkled.

"Oh god yes. Their steak is amazing."

"Good. I'll quickly order." While Greg made the tea, Mycroft called and ordered the food. When Greg was done he took turns to place their mugs on the table. His eye caught a big brown file, with "top secret" stamped across it. He frowned but didn't say anything. Just as he was about to sit down he opened the one cabinet door and took out a packet of biscuits. When he sat back down, Mycroft was done and joined him. He took a sip of the tea and smiled.

"Thank you. My favourite."

"You're welcome, oh also you can open this, if I try the biscuits is going to end up on the floor." Greg said as he handed the biscuits to Mycroft. He took it with looking down in shame.

"Stop looking so guilty My, it's over and done with and it won't change what happened, if we want to work through this, you need to stop looking Iike I just kicked your puppy." Mycroft sighed and squared his shoulders before he looked at Greg.

"Okay." He opened the packet and held out the packet for Greg to take a biscuit before he took one for himself. Placing the packet down on the table he sat back.

Greg eyed the file again before turning to Mycroft, then back again to the file. Using his biscuit as a pointer he indicated to the file.

"Always bringing 'Top Secret' files with you, or is there a reason for it?"

"There is a reason." Mycroft replied as he put the mug down and pulling the file towards him.

"What is the reason?" Greg asked and then quickly added. "I can ask right?"

"Of course you may." Mycroft answered and the opened the cover.

"You said that if I take the time to explain it would actually help my case. This is my attempt at trying to explain. I... I... want a good case to give to you; I need to know that we can overcome this..." Greg tried to keep his emotions in check as Mycroft tried to explain, he never really heard Mycroft so unsure of himself and that is causing Greg a bit more pain than a fractured wrist, well the dismissal was more painful too...

"My..." Greg started holding out his hand to comfort Mycroft, Mycroft grabbed his hand but feeling the cast he quickly let go as if burning on a stove. Greg closed his eyes as he realised Mycroft haven't touched him since before it happened, they spend the night together two day before it happened, they talked during the day, had a quick lunch the day before where they shared a quick kiss but that was that, he got called away on a case, got home too late and so many other things that they essentially haven't had physical contact in about four days. Regardless how angry he was and hurt he was with the incident, he missed Mycroft, he missed holding him, even if it is just hands. He held out his hand.

"Take my hand Mycroft." Mycroft genuinely looked like he would rather not.

"We haven't touched each other in four days."

Mycroft looked stunned for a moment then he nodded.

"You gave me a brief kiss the two days ago after lunch."

"I did. You smiled." Greg replied, smiling.

"Of course, it was you." Mycroft looked at Greg's hand then slowly put his hand palm against cast covered palm. His long fingers falling in between the spaces of Greg's fingers. Greg watched as Mycroft tried to keep his emotions in check but was failing. He can't give this man up, he can't, and they have been through too much together for them to walk away. They need to work on this, to get to some compromise about how things need to change, but this man, who runs the country, is getting emotional just because he hasn't touched his partner in four days, there have been longer periods before but not like this, not when it was almost final.

Mycroft, the file forgotten, turned so that they sat face to face, his free hand slowly reaching out to Greg's face, touching his cheek.

"I feel stubble."

"Shaving is difficult at the moment, are you okay with having a boyfriend with a beard?"

"Is it grey as your hair?" Mycroft softly asked, not wanting to break the moment that is developing between them. Greg smiled

"Not all of it, its salt and pepper with a bit more pepper."

"If you'd like I can help you shave?"

"Yeah. I'd like that." Mycroft lifted his eyes from the stubble to Greg's eyes, the brown orbs filling his world with sunsets...

"I am so sorry for the pain I caused you, for making you doubt us, yourself, the strength we had together, I didn't think in that moment, I should have, I am known to think about everything at once and it failed me, and you ended up with the consequences."

Greg's eyes filled with tears.

"It's okay, it's a start, and I know you are not use to this, thinking about personal and professional stuff at once, but promise me, next time you will try?" Mycroft nodded.

"I will, I need to explain, the situation, a terrorist attack at Heathrow, a big one..."

"Shhh." Greg interrupted, now that the explanation is in front of him, he finds himself a bigger need, to listen later, he wanted to hold Mycroft, and let Mycroft hold him. Everything else can wait... he pulled Mycroft close and they just sat there, breathing each other in.

They were brought back to the real world when their food arrived. Mycroft decided to go get it while Greg put the mugs in the sink and put the rest of the biscuits away. Mycroft came back in with the food; the smell travelling through the air and making Greg's mouth water...the atmosphere was lighter and more relaxed than before. Mycroft cut Greg's steak in smaller pieces and Greg didn't mind one bit. Because of his hand it would be easier to eat at the table.

Mycroft pulled the file closer. Greg stopped him

"Tell me, don't show me. We can look at the file later." With a nod Mycroft started.

"Amir Shanwari was born in Pakistan, and raised in Azerbaijan; he got his degree in political science and technology at the National University of Switzerland. He used his education to build a small following, with major connections on the web. Long story short, he was able to get someone who could hack into the security at Heathrow, disabling the security protocols and measures, this would allow him to bring a bomb on board one of the flights. The idea was to detonate it in the underground station, which would cause a makes earthquake on top as the airport would collapse in itself. He had a friend that was part of your murder investigation and when we find out, it was already almost too late. I was needed to not only stop him, but assure a wide range of countries and diplomats that Heathrow safe and would stay safe."

Greg listened in silence, the more Mycroft talked and explained the glad Greg became that he succeeded in stopping a major international catastrophe from happening, still a little angry about how it happened, and he could ultimately understand why Mycroft did what he didn't. Swift action was needed. Mycroft smiled has been doing this a lot longer than what they have been dating or know each other for that matter, that he can forgive Mycroft for this, as long as it never happens again. After dinner Greg had a quick browse through the file.

"Do I actually have clearance for this?"

"No." Mycroft answered. Greg stopped and looked at him.

"What? Why did you bring it, let me look through it?"

"Because I wanted you to understand, to know I would never..." Mycroft couldn't finish his sentence as Greg kissed him. Mycroft responded by pulling him close. When they parted Mycroft was looking down at Greg, their foreheads touching.

"Gregory?" Mycroft softly asked.

"Hmmm.?"

"I love you."

"I love you."

"Would you consider that while you're arm heals you would stay with me?"


End file.
